


Anger Management

by pt_tucker



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Community: daredevilkink, M/M, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Sex used instead of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5376935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pt_tucker/pseuds/pt_tucker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes his employer really needs to hit something. So Wesley lets him fuck him instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anger Management

**Author's Note:**

> Still no beta reader. If any of my fellow Fiskley trash would like to volunteer, I'd appreciate it. :D
> 
> Let me know if you see any mistakes while reading! Thanks!
> 
> Written for a [prompt](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/725.html?thread=34261#cmt34261) that requested angry Fisk/Wesley sex.

“Sir.”

Wesley turned his head a few degrees to the right as Francis came to stand beside him. Enough to indicate that he’d caught his attention, but not enough to completely ignore Fisk, should his employer require him. Not that Wesley assumed he would be needed when all Fisk was doing was eating a quick meal before they moved on to their meeting. Still, it was best to be prepared.

“We have a problem, sir,” Francis whispered. He held up his phone to show Wesley a picture of the man they’d been about to meet, lying in a pool of his own blood in some dingy back alley somewhere. 

Wesley closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. Damn it. They’d _needed_ this meeting. It would take weeks to set up another. And Wesley didn’t even want to calculate the probability of the man’s organization thinking they’d had some part in this. They’d not exactly been on friendly terms.

“Find out who did this. I’ll inform him.” 

Francis visibly relaxed before nodding and darting out of the room. No one wanted to be the barer of bad news. Least of all Wesley himself, though he did have the advantage of not being brutally beaten to death when he was, so that left it to him anyway. They couldn’t afford to continuously lose upper-level employees when things went south. The background checks alone would put them in the red.

He patiently waited for Fisk to finish his Wagyu steak before stepping over to his side. It would be a pity to ruin such a fine cut of meat. “Sir, there’s been a change of plans. Our appointment with Mr. Mantiley has been…unfortunately cancelled.”

“Cancelled? Why?” Fisk’s brows drew together as he wiped his mouth off with a cloth napkin.

“He’s dead.” He didn’t insult his employer’s intelligence by elaborating. 

“I see,” Fisk said softly, rising to his feet and placing the napkin beside his plate.

And then the table went flying onto its side, sending utensils in every direction and shattering expensive dishware against the polished oak of the dining room’s flooring. Francis poked his head into the room, but immediately retracted it when he confirmed no unwanted visitors had made their way inside. Wesley reacted to none of this.

“Who did it?” Fisk asked, his voice falsely calm. 

“We’re looking into it.”

Fisk’s hands clenched as he paced, but they didn’t come anywhere near Wesley. “Good.”

Wesley watched him for a minute. Watched the anger continue to build up with no hint of dissipating any time soon. Watched Fisk barely restrain himself from pummeling a nearby wall. Wesley knew his employer would sooner open the door and punch the first available body than touch him, so he wasn’t worried for his safety. The house – one of Fisk’s many properties – was another matter entirely, however. They’d just had the new windows put in.

Wesley unbuckled his belt and let it fall to the floor with a clang. Fisk’s eyes snapped towards him, but he said nothing as Wesley walked to a section of the wall that didn’t have broken dishes in front of it. He unzipped his pants and pushed them down to his knees, followed by his boxers, before leaning into the brown and blue patterned wallpaper – a favorite of the dear Mrs. Vistain.

Fisk wasted no time in stomping over and ripping down his own clothing. Wesley grunted as he pushed into him, but it didn’t hurt so much as feel extremely uncomfortable. Which was sort of the point, and the reason Wesley spent time periodically throughout the day spreading himself with his fingers and reapplying lubricant in the restroom. 

Fisk’s fingers dug into his hips, but bruises there were better than bruises on his face, so Wesley couldn’t complain. The bigger man thrust into him with enough force to have Wesley worried that he might eventually take him off his feet. Perhaps next time he’d face Fisk so that in the event such a thing occurred, he could grab Fisk’s shoulders to help take some of the pressure off his asshole. 

He jerked forwards when Fisk found his prostate. Wesley pressed his face into his forearm in an attempt to muffle a moan when he hit it again, and then a third time. Catching on, Fisk adjusted himself so that his cock slid past the area. Though Wesley would never complain, his employer tried not to turn these sessions into something other than what they were. 

While Fisk’s rage burned hot enough to kill a man, it also burned quickly, and soon his rough, almost-painful thrusts gave way to a groan as he released into Wesley. Wesley was glad his face was hugging his forearm just then: Fisk couldn’t see the grimace that crossed it. He didn’t mind doing this for his employer, not at all. It’d been his idea in the first place. It was just…upsetting how untidy come dripping out of one’s asshole tended to be. He’d have to shower and change if Fisk required him to on go somewhere less private tonight. 

Fisk’s mouth pressed into the crook of Wesley’s neck while his hands glided up to unbutton Wesley’s suit jacket. He slid one underneath Wesley’s shirt and rubbed his stomach soothingly. The other trailed circles across the junction between his pelvic bone and his upper leg. Wesley reached back with his left hand and grasped it – a silent acknowledgement of Fisk’s apology; even if he didn’t believe his employer had anything to apologize for. This was Wesley’s job.

Fisk didn’t offer to relieve him, which was just as well since these moments never aroused him. Technically, they didn’t arouse Fisk either: his erections came from an entirely different emotion. No, pleasure wasn’t what these encounters were about, at all. When they _did_ want to have sex, they did it in Fisk’s bed or, on one memorable occasion, across his dining room table. And during those times, Wesley called him Wilson.

Wesley sealed his lips to stifle the unwanted noise when Fisk pulled out of him. His employer was not a small man...in any place…and while he hadn’t given Wesley anything more than a few hours’ worth of soreness, Wesley would be hard-pressed to say he’d been gentle. He sighed as he felt the semen drip down into his boxers. 

They secured their clothing in silence and examined each other for leftover signs of what had happened when they were finished. Francis knew, of course, and the other eight hand-picked men standing guard throughout the building must have had some idea. But appearances were everything in their business, and so Wesley stood still as Fisk tidied up his hair while he simultaneously smoothed down Fisk’s jacket. 

He allowed his employer to give him a chaste kiss on the lips – a break from their professional roles, but not an unwelcome one. 

“Come home with me. Francis can handle the situation.”

Wesley smiled at Wilson as a large hand cupped the side of his face. “Of course.” 

Wilson smiled back before trailing his fingers down Wesley’s shoulder, letting them linger there for a moment before allowing his hand to drop. 

Wesley’s expression shifted back into one of perfect blankness as he walked Fisk to the door. He mentally rearranged their schedules so that his employer could have the company he desired tonight, with a possible layover tomorrow morning. Leland would be annoyed if they missed their meeting with him, but who cared how he felt. Madame Gao, on the other hand, could be entirely too perceptive when she wanted to be, so it would be best not to raise any questions with a delay. 

Francis was on waiting for them on the other side of the door.

“Any word on our mystery killer?” Wesley asked, falling slightly behind Fisk to speak with his assistant. 

“We’re narrowing in on them, sir. One of our officers says she thinks she may have tracked down an associate who can lead us to them.”

“Good. Once you’ve dropped us off, I want you to take some of the men and head up the search yourself. We don’t need this getting out of hand.”

“Yes, sir. Where are we dropping you?” Francis asked, though something in his expression said he already knew. 

“Mr. Fisk and I have some private business to attend to at his penthouse.”

“Of course, sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, what'd you think? Kudos & comments greatly appreciated, as is constructive criticism.
> 
> Also, FYI, I read something that made Francis out to be Wesley’s assistant & even though I’m not certain that’s really supported by canon, I liked the idea, so I’ve sort of made him that in my fic.


End file.
